


FIC: Mrs. & Mrs. Mord'Sith 2/8

by trancer



Series: Mrs. & Mrs. Mord'Sith [2]
Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-27
Updated: 2010-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:49:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trancer/pseuds/trancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cara and Kahlan are married spies, with a *mostly* picture perfect marriage. But, when Cara's past catches up to them, their lives are about to change in the most unexpected of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FIC: Mrs. & Mrs. Mord'Sith 2/8

**Chapter Two**

C.L.I.T. HEADQUARTERS, UNKNOWN LOCATION

The mansion was enormous, the building itself occupied several acres, a neo-modern castle with white, gleaming walls, wide gothic arches, high polished floors. It sat on a hill overlooking crystal blue waters and silk, white sands. The grounds were well manicured, bushes shaped like exotic animals, a giant pond filled with Koi and an Olympic sized pool.

But, these amenities were all surface. A façade to hide what was really within the castle’s gleaming, white walls - C.L.I.T., aka, Criminal League of International Terrorists, under which there were three main factions - the Dragon Corps, the Sisters of the Dark. And within walls of the large, white mansion resided the Mord’Sith, the most deadly and feared of CLIT’s criminal elements, rumored to have been in existence for centuries. Members - all female and dressed in tight, red leather, with ominous looking metal buckles, straps and tighter corsets, their hair pulled back in severe ponytails - walked the perimeter. Hanging from the belt of their hips, an Agiel, a Mord’Sith’s most deadliest weapon.

Inside the mansion, their red leather contrasting with the black tiled floors and white walls, they hacked on computers, emptied/filled boxes with weaponry, planned and schemed and calculated the plans put together by their leader..

“GODDAMMIT!!” a female voice echoed off the stone walls. Her boots clacked loudly on the floor as she stalked between rooms. She was an imposing figure, in her all-white leather, blonde hair pulled back off her head in the Mord’Sith ponytail style. But, she was no ordinary Mord‘Sith. She was no ordinary CLIT.

She was Denna.

Denna shoved open the double doors to the main hallway, the wooden doors smacking hard and loud against the walls, the noise echoing down to the beaches below the mansion.

Denna slammed open the doors, nostrils flaring as her eyes blazed hot. “Who do I have to fuck around here to get a Confessor killed!?!”

A dozen red, leather-clad arms with red and leather gloves shot into the air.

“That was a rhetorical question,” Denna hissed, pausing to purr as she ran a hand over her slicked back hair. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“That’s unfortunate..” In a room, a mansion, an island filled with nothing but women, the man’s voice echoing off the walls was like a sonic boom. Quickly followed by chair legs scraping on floor as dozens of Mord’Sith’s snapped to attack positions.

Denna spun around, lips curling into a smile as she watched the man pull off his Ray Ban’s. He wore a white suit, pink t-shirt underneath his white jacket, tan loafers, like a fey Don Johnson circa ‘Miami Vice‘. “Darken Rahl,” Denna drawled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m here to answer your question - who do you have to fuck to get a Confessor killed? To which the answer would be me even though I know you don’t swing that way and, I might add..” Rahl paused, running a hand dramatically over his shorn skull. “Neither do I.”

Denna squinted her eyes, examining Rahl. She wrapped an arm loosely about her middle, resting her other elbow on her wrist as she ran her fingers over her chin. “Men aren’t allowed on CLIT grounds. You have five minutes, after which,” Denna’s polite smile turned menacing. “My Mord’Sith will rip you limb from limb.”

Multiple hands gripped the hilts of their Agiel’s tighter, the collective magic sounding like distance screams carried on a breeze.

Darken Rahl chuckled, unfazed by the display of force. He folded his sunglasses, tucking them into the breast pocket of his jacket. “There was a time when the House of Rahl and Mord’Sith worked hand in hand..”

“Don’t you mean,” Denna cut him off. “A time when Mord’Sith worked under the boot of the House of Rahl? Our power no longer comes from a bond with the Lord Rahl and hasn‘t for a very long time.”

“I apologize,” Rahl tipped his head congenially. “I stand corrected.”

Denna tapped her wrist. “Four minutes and thirty seconds.”

He crossed his arms, elbow resting on a wrist, a finger touching his chin. “I heard about the burn notices on a certain Mord’Sith. I’m here to make a proposal, Denna. My family’s empire has.. fallen out of favor and I wish to takes steps to restore it. I give you what you want, I get what I want.”

“And what is that?”

“As you mentioned, I’ve never had the pleasure of experiencing the bond between a Rahl and the Mord’Sith.” He began walking, slowly, weaving his way through the Mord’Sith’s surrounding him, gazing appreciatively at the toys that were no longer his. “I know restoring that bond is.. unlikely. I wish to suggest a partnership with Mord’Sith to help. I kill the Confessor and..” He ran the back of his hand across a blonde’s cheek. “Your former pet. And you help me restore the glory of the House of Rahl.”

Denna inhaled, tapping a finger against the hilt of her Agiel. “I know you, Rahl, and how your mind works. There’s more to it than that.”

“Of course there is. Helping you, helps me in another way. I get to kill the Seeker.”

“Explain.”

“You organized a burn notice against Kahlan Amnell. The Seeker and the Confessor were, well, I wouldn’t exactly call it lovers but they were close. Before you,” he paused, smirking. “Lost the reigns to your favorite pet. If the Confessor’s in danger, the Seeker will try to help her. Let me do this and we both get what we want. I get to kill Richard, and by killing Kahlan and Cara..”

“NO!” Denna’s voice roared. Leather squeaking as she stomped towards Darken Rahl. “Kill the Seeker, kill the Confessor but Cara? Bring her to me. Alive. And I’ll agree to your proposal.”

**

PORTO, PORTUGAL

 _Twenty-One Months Ago_

 _Kahlan Amnell was drunk. It’d been three weeks since Cara had seen her, since their first date in St. Maarten had turned into two, then three, and they’d parted ways at the airport. Three weeks since Cara had failed in her mission to kill the Confessor or, at least, bed her._

 _After their parting at the airport, Cara had followed Kahlan around the world as Kahlan, inadvertently, followed Cara. Cara had left bread crumbs, big enough to keep the trail warm but small enough so Kahlan was always two steps behind. Cara had been impressed by the Confessor’s fortitude, her dogged persistence and when the trail had led the both of them to Porto, Cara had tired of watching from the shadows._

 _Their meeting in the hotel where Kahlan was staying had been a chance encounter for only one of them. As far as Kahlan knew, Cara was a sales associate for an international pharmaceutical company. That chance encounter led to a romantic dinner and margaritas, which lead to dancing at a nightclub and tequila shots._

 _And now, Kahlan Amnell was drunk, straddling Cara in the front seat of Cara’s silver Astin Martin convertible, kissing Cara like Kahlan was trying to suck the air from Cara’s lungs. And any thoughts Cara had of completing her mission ended when those long legs straddled hers, when blues eyes gazed down at her with a heated and hungry look, and Kahlan’s lips possessed Cara’s._

 _Cara was an agent of CLIT, a Mord’Sith, trained in both the arts of pain and pleasure, torture and seduction. She could kill with the flick of a finger, seduce with merely a glance and yet, the Confessor had blue-balled her, reducing Cara to nothing more than a twelve-year old boy getting his first glimpse of breasts._

 _She drifted her hand to Kahlan’s breast, copping only the slightest of feels before she felt Kahlan’s fingers on her wrist, pulling her hand away._

 _“Cara..” Kahlan gasped, part pleasure, part admonishment._

 _An eyebrow rose on Cara’s forehead. “Kahlan,” Cara breathed before her lips found the pulse point on Kahlan’s neck and the Confessor began to squirm. It was always the same - a date, dinner, dancing then kissing. The moment Cara attempted to move past first base, Kahlan was either pointing her back to first or sending her to the dugout._

 _It was enough to make a Mord’Sith feel whipped or, worse, the laughingstock of her Sisters if they ever found out._

 _Kahlan’s hands thread into Cara’s hair, nails scraping against her scalp as Kahlan dove in for another demanding kiss. And Cara purred, not quite in acquiescence, but at her rising heartbeat, at the warming of Kahlan’s skin, the heat between Kahlan’s legs she could feel over her own crotch._

 _Cara softly, smoothly, drifted a hand over the top of Kahlan’s thigh, fingers playing in the material of the dress bunched at the top of Kahlan’s hips. Slowly, as she pushed her tongue into Kahlan’s mouth, Cara drifted her fingers lower, and under, then pressed them against Kahlan’s core, through incredibly damp panties._

 _Kahlan’s hips bucked. She yanked their lips apart as she sucked in a surprised gasp of air. Mouth slack, her eyelids fluttered, gazing back at Cara with an expression Cara had seen hundreds of times before._

 _‘I want to.. But I can’t.. But I will..’_

 _“Cara..” Kahlan whimpered, taking one of the hands gripping Cara’s head and snaking it between them, grasping around Cara’s wrist. This time, Cara didn’t allow Kahlan to push her hand away and force met resistance._

 _“Kahlan,” Cara purred back, middle finger beginning a gentle stroking motion._

 _Kahlan grunted at the motion, body suddenly stiff and straining. “Cara,” she panted, eyes closing, pressing her forehead to Cara’s. “I can’t.”_

 _“I know you’re not a virgin,” Cara spoke softly, gently, bringing her free hand up to brush the hair obscuring Kahlan’s face. Her lips curled into a knowing smile. “You‘ve never been with a woman before, have you?”_

 _“No.” Kahlan’s cheeks darkened. “But, it’s not that..”_

 _“Then what is it?”_

 _“I..” Kahlan opened her eyes to meet Cara’s gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you.”_

 _Cara chuckled, almost.. touched by Kahlan’s words. “Kahlan Amnell,” she whispered, fingers curling into the dark locks and tugging lightly. “You could never hurt me.” She tilted her head, pressing her lips to Kahlan’s, breathing into Kahlan‘s mouth. “Do you know how badly I want you?”_

 _There was a moment, where ‘this’ was and it wasn’t. Where Kahlan’s grip on Cara’s wrist loosened, where Cara’s fingers circled and Kahlan’s hips rolled, where it seemed like ‘this’ was finally going to happen._

 _“Cara..” Kahlan half-whimpered, half-keened, black swirling within the blue of her eyes. “Please.”_

 _It was, at that moment, the hardest thing Cara had ever done, removing her fingers from between Kahlan’s legs. The air forced from Kahlan’s lungs and she collapsed her face into the crook of Cara’s neck, panting and trembling as if she’d actually come._

 _Cara drew her hands around Kahlan’s waist, then up Kahlan’s back as Cara pulled the brunette tightly to her. She held Kahlan long after Kahlan’s labored breathing returned to normal, their temperatures cooled and heart rates settled._

 _“Thank you,” Kahlan said, shifting her face and resting her head on Cara’s shoulder._

 _“You,” Cara chuckled. “Drive me absolutely crazy.”_

 _“I know.”_

 _This wasn’t Cara’s assignment. She was supposed to kill Kahlan Amnell. Sleeping with the enemy was nothing more than a perk. Somewhere along the way, sleeping with Kahlan had become more important than killing her. Somewhere along the way, just *being* with Kahlan had become more important than sleeping with her._

 _And that troubled Cara more than anything._

**

THE OUTSKIRTS OF MIAMI, FLORIDA

“Yeah?” Cara spoke flatly into her cell.

“I have a plane for you,” Zedd answered in her ear, skipping the normal formalities. “It’s leaving in an hour at Greyfield Airport. Do you know it?”

“Yeah,” Cara answered. “Have you heard from Kahlan?” The tiny sliver of silence told Cara all she needed to know. “I’ll be there,” she said, immediately closing the device and cutting the wizard off.

An hour outside the city, Cara’s Porsche rolled to a stop in front of a standard white and orange colored storage facility. A typical maze of units, the storage spaces big enough to hold a large SUV if one desired. The facility had seen better days, the cement cracked with sprouting weeds. All that mattered to Cara was they took cash and didn’t ask any questions.

She parked her car in front of her rented unit, pulling out the key hidden deep within the glove box. She gave a quick glance of her perimeter before unlocking the deadbolt, lifting the door, entering and closing it behind her.

It’s not that Cara was a secretive person, she’d just learned long ago to keep her emotions close to her chest. But, she did have secrets. She’d rented the storage unit for years. Long before she met Kahlan, or was recruited by CLIT, or joined the MBI.

The room was 15 by 15 feet but the items stored inside could fill a small closet. There were three boxes stacked on top of each other in the center of the room, a old ARMY foot locker next to the stack of boxes.

Cara knelt down, ignoring the boxes and opening the locker. Her lips pursed at the sight of an old family portrait, the only one she owned. A picture of her mother and father, Cara and her sister. Smiling. Before everything went to Hell in a hand basket. Cara ignored that - the stuffed teddy bear, her mother’s jewelry box and her father’s ARMY medals, the curios from another life - lifting the tray to get to the lower portion of the locker.

The red leather outfit folded neatly and stowed under a blanket called to Cara’s fingers like a siren’s song. She touched the material reverently, eyelids fluttering at the soft, silky feel of the material. Cara had been working for the MBI, told she’d be recruited by CLIT and instructed to say yes and Cara danced the razor’s edge _for years_. Until she was so deep she didn’t know right from wrong, good from evil, up from down. Until the day she’d been given an assignment to assassinate a Confessor named Kahlan Amnell and a blind date turned into something.. more. A girlfriend. A relationship. A wife.

But there was still a dark pull within Cara. As much as she hadn’t been a member of the Mord‘Sith, she felt more at home with them than she ever had with the MBI. And she felt that dark pull as she grasped the hilts of her two Agiel’s, hissing at the cold comfort of the Agiel’s dark magic, at the pain tingling through her body.

She’d told Kahlan she’d burned her uniform - the uniform, the weapons that made her one of the most feared assassins in the world - Cara had lied. Kahlan would never have understood. Because, as Cara tucked her Agiel’s into her belt, it wasn’t the weapons and training of the MBI that would get her wife back, it would be her life as a Mord’Sith

No, Kahlan wouldn’t understand, Cara thought as she closed her father’s foot locker and rose to her full height. Kahlan wouldn’t understand at all.

**

VENICE, ITALY

It felt like home, being in Venice just as the sun cracked the horizon. Kahlan took a moment to pause and enjoy the view. She stood on the roof of a four-story palazzi, overlooking Canal Grande. She powered up the disposable cell she’d purchased, praying and hoping the time she’d spent charging the battery on the train before she’d been interrupted had been enough.

The cell had power.. barely. Less than a ten percent charge, but it was enough to make a call, hopefully, several. She knew it was futile, dialing Cara’s number, and Kahlan disconnected before the voice mail picked up even though she so desperately wanted to hear Cara’s voice.

It’d only been a day since they’d parted but Kahlan never thought she could _ache_ so hard. It’s not like they hadn’t been apart before, but then, the stakes weren’t so high. Kahlan never had so much to lose.

She sighed solemnly, the soft smile fading off her lips as she dialed again.

“Hello?” And the tears began to well in the corners of her eyes as she heard Zedd’s voice.

“It’s me,” she answered.

“Ka..” he stopped himself to keep from saying her name. “Are you okay?”

“This is more than a burn notice.”

“I know,” Zedd sighed. For the first time, he sounded tired to Kahlan’s ears, he sounded old. Kahlan realized how much effort Zedd must have been putting into helping her and Cara. Too much, as far as Kahlan was concerned. “We‘re working on it.”

She could hear machinery in the background, it sounded like planes. “Is.. is she with you?”

“No, but she will be. And then she’ll be coming for you.”

That should have made Kahlan feel better instead, it made her feel guilty. She should be going to Miami, to her real home. Cara shouldn’t be coming here, putting herself in even more danger to help Kahlan. “She can’t do that. She needs to stay where she is.”

“And I’m supposed to stop her, how? You know her better than anyone. How will she find you?”

Kahlan placed a hand on her suddenly growling stomach. “She’s my wife. She’ll know.”

**

Cara made it to Greyfield with seconds to spare. It was a small, private airport catering mostly to the rich. She found Zedd’s car parked next to a small hangar, the large gate already open. A white, private jet, the engine already running, sat on the tarmac. Whatever strings Zedd had pulled, they were big ones. She’d never tell the old man he’d impressed her, but he had.

“Cara,” he said, his voice all business as he lead her into the hanger.

She ignored his disapproving glance over her outfit. It wasn’t the black, leather duster or white, button down blouse underneath. It was the black gloves, black leather pants and heavy boots. Cut in a manner, to the trained eye, very reminiscent to the outfits worn by the Mord‘Sith. Had he seen the Agiel’s tucked on either side of her hip in her belt, she was sure his disapproving glance would have lasted a little longer. She’d served her country by, figuratively and literally, sleeping with the enemy. She also knew there were still doubts as to just where her allegiances lay, knowing full well dressing in the manner of the enemy wouldn‘t alleviate such doubts.

Inside the hangar, Zedd led Cara to a table overloaded with spy gadgets and weaponry. Anything and everything she could possibly need.

Zedd stood to the side, folding his arms over her chest as he watched Cara inspect the inventory. “I thought you might need some party favors.”

Cara answered with an ‘mmm’ as she grabbed a semi-automatic, working the weapon like it was an extension of her body - ejecting the clip, inserting the clip, loading the chamber, checking the sight, the weight and feel.

This went on for several minutes, Cara inspecting each and every weapon on the table measurably, Zedd silently watching.

“Kahlan contacted me,” he finally spoke.

Cara whipped around. “You’re telling me this now? What’d she say? Is she safe? Where is she?”

He held up his hands defensively. “Yes. She’s safe. While she didn’t tell me where she is, she said that you would know.”

Cara stilled, her eyes getting a faraway look as the corner of her lips upturned minutely. “I might have an idea.” She pulled back her duster enough to tuck the semi in the small of her back. “I’ll take it all.”

Zedd snorted. “Of course you will.”

Cara turned, walking towards the jet for another of her thorough inspections. “When do I leave?”

“There’s one more detail I have to tell you about..”

But, Zedd didn’t need to tell Cara, she could see it for herself. The door to the jet was already open, the stairs extended. A figured moved towards the door and Cara stopped dead in her tracks.

“What the HELL is he doing here?” she spat venomously.

Richard Cypher - the Seeker, the poster boy for the MBI and, most importantly, ex-boyfriend to Cara’s wife - stood, in his tailored slacks and tight, ribbed sweater - at the entrance of the jet. The Sword of Truth, more for symbolism, sheathed on his hip.

“Cara,” Richard casually walked down the steps, Cara approaching and the two were mere feet apart. “I’m here to help.”

“Really?” Cara snarled. “So you can save Kahlan yourself and win her back?”

Richard’s eyes went to Zedd’s with an ‘I told you so’ expression. And Cara growled at the silent communication between the Seeker and his grandfather. At one time, they’d been enemies, when Cara was still undercover to undermine and expose CLIT. They’d also worked together. Like Zedd, Cara and Richard weren’t exactly friends, she may have respected him but, good goddamn, did she ever *not* like him. No, she didn’t like his history with Kahlan. The ties between them that could never be severed.

“Cara,” he turned his eyes back to her, his voice a placating tone. “I am the Seeker. I have resources and access even Zedd would have a hard time acquiring. You need me.”

“The Hell I do! Richard‘s not the only one that can fly a goddamned plane.” Her fingers curled, itching to touch her Agiel’s, to calm her nerves, to appease her sudden desire to hurt something.

“Richard’s right,” Zedd spoke.

“Of course you’d say that,” Cara hissed. “Fine. I‘ll accept your help if you can tell me one thing.” She stepped towards Richard, eyes hot and eager. “Tell me you’re not still in love with Kahlan.”

“Fine, then answer me this,” Richard growled through clenched teeth, meeting Cara’s step until they were toe to toe. “Tell me Kahlan’s still not in love with me.”

With a crack, Cara’s fist connected with Richard’s jaw. His head whipped back hard. Anticipating the blow, Richard too the punch then countered with a backhand, striking Cara on the cheek. Cara delivered a sucker-punch to the gut, followed with an elbow to his face. Richard grabbed Cara by the lapels of her jacket and head butted her.

It was on. Cara could have used her Agiel’s, Richard could have used his sword. It wasn’t that kind of fight. They fought like enemies with nothing left to lose. They fought like friends who, deep down, didn‘t really want to hurt the other.

“ENOUGH!!” Zedd’s voice boomed like thunder in a valley. He raised his hand, fingers splayed open and let loose a burst of fire. It streaked across the floor in a line no more than two inches wide but the flames were high, almost seven feet. The line streaked between Cara and Richard, separating the two as they leapt backwards.

“SHE/HE STARTED IT!” they yelped in unison.

Zedd stepped forward, the flames dying down as quickly as they started. “I don’t care who started it. I do care about Kahlan. And the more time you two waste fighting like two little schoolgirls, the longer Kahlan’s in danger.

“Fine,” Richard grumbled.

Zedd turned his angry gaze towards Cara.

“Fine,” she muttered.

Zedd watched, arms folded over his chest, as the two walked towards the plane. Cara took the steps first.

“You still punch like a girl,” she muttered under her breath.

“Yeah,” Richard grumbled back. “You still project yours.”

**

MIAMI, FLORIDA

It was a room, since retiring from the MBI, Zedd would like to say he rarely entered. The truth was, he was there practically every other day. Part library, part laboratory, part sanctuary, the room was huge, the walls over twenty feet high and completely lined with volumes and volumes of books - history, spells, wizardry, the occasional erotica. His wizard’s coat hung on a coat rack in a corner.

On the floor level was a laboratory of sorts, where Zedd created and mixed his spells, the wall behind it, stood a windowed refrigerator where Zedd kept all his ingredients.

He was, as the kids these days called it, old school. Zedd preferred the methods of his teachings, methodical, organic, ritualistic. But, unlike his colleagues, Zedd wasn’t averse to the new. For the Order to survive, Zedd always believed, it must also ’get with the times’. Opposite his laboratory sat Zedd’s other lab - his computer station. Three monitors, twice as many keyboards, it’s where Zedd worked his ‘new magic’… and occasionally played ‘World of Warcraft’.

He’d cast a spell, with help from one of the younger wizards who was also a computer programmer, that helped him cast a wider net, allowed him easier access to blocked networks. Someone, from somewhere, had put a burn notice on both Cara and Kahlan. But, for the life of him, Zedd couldn’t backtrack *where* the initial burn notice had come from. With 195 countries, all with multiple government agencies running on different computer systems, it was like searching for a needle in a needle stack. Without discovering where the first burn notice had come from, it would be damn near impossible for Zedd to get the MBI to rescind the orders it had created, in response to the burn notice from a country of origin Zedd couldn’t find.

The multiple screens flickered with multiple images as his spell sifted and sorted through the pertinent information. When something of note popped up, the screen stopped.

The screen to Zedd’s far left stopped. And Zedd’s eyes went wide at the information displayed on the screen. As if things weren’t bad enough? They just got worse.

“Oh no,” he sighed.

**

20,000 FEET ABOVE ITALY

Cara pushed open the door to the cockpit and stepped inside the tiny space. There was nothing to do and she was bored silly. She’d cleaned and re-cleaned every weapon within the plane until the cabin reeked with the stench of gun cleaner. It didn’t help that there was no flight attendant on board Cara could flirt with. Not that, you know, Cara would *ever* flirt with a flight attendant now that she was married but it would have been nice to have the option.

“Are we there, yet?” she asked, flopping down into the co-pilot’s seat.

Richard sighed loudly, sounding a lot like his grandfather. “We’re almost there, another twenty minutes.”

Cara leaned forward. She began pushing buttons and flipping switches. Immediately, Richard reached out and swatted at her hand.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Checking the gauges.” She flicked another switch, ignoring Richard’s glare. “It‘d be a shame to die before anyone had a chance to kill me.”

“I already checked the gauges. The gauges are fine.”

Cara pulled out the flight manifest and began flipping the pages.

“What are you doing, now?” Richard snatched the book from her hands.

Cara turned in her seat, glaring at him. “According to that manifest, we should have landed thirty-seven minutes ago.”

“This manifest,” Richard waved it in the air before stowing it back next to his seat. “Was written *before* we had to fly around a storm. Which you would have known were you sitting in the co-pilot‘s seat and not back there jerking off.”

“I do not _jerk off_!” she glared, folding her arms over her chest. Then, her lips pulled into a smirk. “I get Kahlan to do it for me. And I wasn‘t sitting in the co-pilot‘s seat because I am no one‘s *co*-pilot.”

Richard smirked. “Not even Kahlan.”

Cara’s lips opened for a retort when a crackle opened on Richard’s headset. He was getting a call. He hurriedly grabbed the headset and slipped them on. “This is Flight 2374.”

“Richard!” Zedd’s voice rang in his ears.

“ZEDD!” Richard practically yelled as Cara slid on the co-pilot‘s headset. “Thank.. GOD!”

Cara turned on her mic. “Have you heard from Kahlan?”

“Hey!” Richard snapped, his right hand reaching for Cara’s headset cable and she swatted his hand away. “I’m the pilot. I ask the questions.”

“You’re just mad because I’m a better pilot than you.”

“ENOUGH!!” Zedd roared in their ears. “Great Creator’s ghost! Can you two please not bicker for *two* seconds!?! Because, you know, I didn‘t make this long distance call, taking me away from very important matters..”

“Sorry, Zedd,” the two spoke in tandem.

“Now, I’m afraid things have gone from bad to worse. Along with the burn notices, there’s now a hit order on both Cara and Kahlan. For fifty million dollars each.”

An angry growl rumbled up Cara’s throat. She yanked off her headset, rising from her seat, heading towards the cabin. She needed a gun.. and to punch something.

“Get this plane on the ground,” she hissed at Richard. “Now!”

**

Darken Rahl lowered his binoculars as the small, private jet disappeared from his sight.

“Oh Richard,” he smiled broadly. “Thank you for being so ridiculously predictable.”

He tossed his binoculars through the open window of his car, turning to the Mord’Sith surrounding him.

“I don’t care what you do with Cara and Kahlan but, Richard,” he warned, his voice growled with a timbre of a true Lord Rahl. “He’s mine.”

**

TWENTY-SEVEN MONTHS AGO

 _Cara entered the communal bath typically used by her sisters. She, not hurriedly, Cara was one never to be in a hurry, but very quickly opened then closed the double doors to keep the warmth and steam from dissipating at her entrance._

 _The walls were grey-white marble, polished to a high sheen. Four columns surrounded the rectangular pool set in the floor. The pool was large, almost twenty feet long and ten feet wide, but shallow. Deep enough immerse ones self, shallow enough to sit upright and not be underwater._

 _Today, there were only three sisters in the bath. Denna, body glistening, wet hair slicked back off her forehead, who stood in the pool and two sisters, who sat on either side of Denna, hands and loofa’s lovingly caressing Denna’s thighs._

 _Cara stepped to the edge of the pool, resting a hand on her canted hips as she enjoyed the view. Watching as her sisters hands slid up and down and inside Denna’s thighs, wondering at what point the fingers would turn curious and Denna would acquiesce. After several minutes of watching, realizing the sisters really were there *just* to bathe Denna, Cara spoke._

 _“You called for me, Mistress?”_

 _“Leave,” was the first word from Denna’s lips. Both sisters bowed their heads, quietly and quickly rose, leaving the bath without grabbing a towel or a robe._

 _Denna waded through the water, walking towards the opposite end of the pool. Where she turned around fully and sat down on the submerged bench, stretching and extending her arms over the edge of the pool._

 _With darkening eyes, Denna took a moment to admire the woman before her, tongue poking surreptitiously in the corner of her mouth. “Strip,” she finally commanded._

 _Cara started with her gloves. Putting on or taking off the Mord’Sith uniform was meant to be a communal affair, to maintain the bond between ones sisters. Cara had no such assistance but she still managed to remove her uniform in a quick amount of time._

 _The last of her clothing removed, Cara once again stood to her full height, once again, canting her hips expectantly. A very ‘un-reverent’ move in the presence of her mistress. She felt Denna’s eyes as they slowly raked Cara’s body down then up, wet tongue slowly licking her lips._

 _“Come to me,” Denna said._

 _“Yes, Mistress.” Cara stepped into the water, not stopping until she was at Denna’s feet._

 _Denna’s eyes narrowed, the seductive smile on her lips fading slightly. “I said come to me.”_

 _Cara walked further, feet on either side of Denna’s legs. She lowered, thighs meeting thighs as she straddled Denna’s lap. Quick as lightening, Denna’s hand snatched forward, fingers fisting the top of Cara’s ponytail and pulling Cara forward. Their lips crashed together, hard. Mouths immediately open, teeth clacking as their tongues dueled._

 _Then, Denna’s other hand was between Cara’s thighs, three fingers shoved hard and deep, and Cara’s hips were rolling, jutting, the water between them sloshing against their skin._

 _Denna yanked with the hand gripping Cara’s head, breaking the kiss, pulling Cara back just enough to feel Cara’s wet breath panted onto her lips. “You’ve been.. distracted lately.”_

 _Cara, eyes still closed, licked her lips. “Have I?”_

 _The, intentional, insolence was met with a hard jut of Denna’s fingers and Cara growled at the penetration. “Have I, Mistress?”_

 _“Better,” Denna purred. “And, yes, you have.” She took not-so playful bites out of Cara’s jaw, moving up until her lips brushed the shell of Cara’s ear. “I was like you once - cunning, ruthless..” she drew her tongue down the line of Cara’s ear, pulling the lobe into her mouth and pulling until it popped out. “Ambitious.”_

 _“Is this a compliment?” Cara panted. It was getting hard to concentrate, hard to talk with the tension building in the pit of her stomach. “Mistress.”_

 _“Yes,” Denna chuckled, slowing her fingers and smiling at Cara’s protesting whimper. “It’s why you’re my favorite. It’s why I know you’ve been so distracted lately.”_

 _Cara opened her eyes, the lids feeling like they were attached to ten-pound weights. “You do?.. Mistress.”_

 _“Yes, I do.” She gently pressed her lips to Cara’s. “Like I said, I was like you once, and along with all your other attributes..” she withdrew her fingers, receiving a hiss from Cara, then pressed her fingertips against Cara’s clit. “And appetites. The Mord’Sith have many things to offer a sister but it can be a bit.. limiting. Especially to a keen mind like yours.” She released the hand holding Cara’s hair, trailing her fingers down to the tip of Cara’s jaw and lifting her head up. “You’re bored.”_

 _Cara had been with the Mord'Sith for almost ten years. While it wasn’t Denna who’d recruited her, Denna had broken her, trained her, taught Cara everything about pain and pleasure. Who’s bed Cara first shared, and the last one she always slipped back into. It was Cara who Denna first whispered her plans to depose the, then, Head of CLIT. And it was Cara who came up with the ideas that ultimately brought those plans to fruition._

 _Cara had been and done many things as an agent of CLIT, a Mord’Sith, but she would never define herself as ‘bored’._

 _Denna continued, smiling in that arrogant manner that made Cara itch for the day she could wrap her fingers around Denna’s neck and choke the smile off her face. “You need something worthy of your skills, a challenge and I have just the thing.”_

 _The fingers on Cara’s clit moved back inside her and she grunted with relieved frustration. She only had one interest at the moment, it didn’t involve conversation._

 _“The Sisters of the Dark have asked for our assistance,” Denna continued. “Now, I find them crazier than a shithouse rat and prefer to avoid them at all costs, especially with their insane reverence for the House of Rahl but the request was intriguing and the money even better.”_

 _“Who do I have to kill?” Cara grunted through clenched teeth and closed eyes. She was so close.. so close. But, this was Denna, and Denna never did anything without an ulterior motive._

 _“That’s my girl?” Denna purred, rewarding Cara with another hard push of her hand. “A Confessor named Kahlan Amnell.”_

 _Cara pressed her forehead to Denna’s shoulder, hips jutting chaotically. It seemed the conversation was over, Denna meeting Cara, matching her rhythm in an increasing and chaotic crescendo. As Cara rushed towards the precipice, Denna brushed her lips along Cara’s ear._

 _“And,” she whispered softly. “There’s something else..”_

**

VENICE, ITALY

Cara couldn’t move, didn’t dare breathe. She stood, rooted to the floor, heart hammering in her chest as she watched Kahlan sleep. The palazzi had been under ‘reconstruction’ for almost three years. Reconstruction meaning Cara had secretly purchased the building, forced the current residents out under a fake ‘asbestos warning’ and kept it empty only to be used as her own personal safe harbor.

She walked towards the single bed, sitting down on the edge. Over two years ago, Denna had ordered Cara to kill the Confessor Kahlan Amnell and Cara had come within a hair’s breath of completing her mission. She still carried the ache and guilt over what she’d almost done, what she’d almost lost. Battered and bleeding, Cara brought Kahlan here, to her secret home and nursed her back to health.

Kahlan stirred, eyes snapping open. Then she was sitting upright, wrapping her arms around her wife’s shoulders as Cara tightly returned the embrace. They parted, just slightly, just enough to press lips against lips. A kiss of reconnection, resolution, a kiss, the longer it continued, growing in passion.

“Cara..” Kahlan breathed heavily as she came up for air. Said Cara’s name like that one word could convey everything she felt and meant. “I knew you’d find me.”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out where you’d go,” Cara replied boastfully. Her gloved fingers finding the space between the bottom of Kahlan’s shirt and the top of her jeans, caressing the exposed patch of skin tenderly.

“This is where I fell in love with you. Where you made love to me..” Kahlan smiled, almost bashfully. “For the first time.”

Cara added with the tilt of her head and a raised eyebrow, “And the second, and third..”

“You counted?” Kahlan giggled.

“You didn’t?” Cara‘s eyebrow rose a little higher. “Seventeen times in two days. That‘s a record, even for me.”

“I will say..” Kahlan purred, the fingers on the back of Cara’s head tightening. “You certainly have a different definition of ‘nursing one back to health’ than, well, the rest of the world.”

“That’s because I’m right and the rest of the world is always wrong. And I always know how to make you feel better.”

“That you do.” Kahlan rushed forward as she pulled Cara to her, crushing their lips together.

“Kahlan..” Cara panted as Kahlan’s teeth found her pulse point, the fingers in her hair demandingly scraping against her scalp. “We don’t.. have time.. for this.”

There was a fifty million dollar bounty on each of their heads. Richard was waiting with the car downstairs. Eventually, he’d wonder what was keeping them and come upstairs.

Kahlan pulled back, eyes seductive and playful. “The great Cara Mason doesn’t have time for sex?”

“When you put it like that..” Cara lifted off the side of the bed, throwing over her leg and straddling Kahlan. Growling, she pushed with her hands and Kahlan was flopping backwards, back flat on the bed. Soft and gentle quickly turned to a hurried frenzy of opened mouths, dueling tongues and pulling hands.

“Wait!” Kahlan panted, eyes widening, hands pushing on Cara’s shoulders to pull them apart. She wanted this. She wanted this _so much_ but there was something Cara needed to know. Something more important than sex. Really. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Like someone had pulled the emergency brake on an expensive sports car driving in top gear, screeching to a painful halt. Cara could only gape down at her wife because, sometimes, Kahlan’s timing seriously, seriously sucked.

“Cara.. I..” Kahlan stammered, swallowed. Cara gazing down at her with a puzzled, expectant expression. “I’m..”

The building shook furiously as an explosion tore through it. No, not through it, under it. Followed in quick succession by three more explosions. Boom! Boom! Boom! The building rumbled again, cement and wood cracking and splintering as the building split from the surrounding foundation.

Kahlan and Cara looked at each in understanding. Someone had destroyed the wooden pillars holding Cara’s palazzi. Cara’s building, her secret home, her safe harbor..

Was sinking.

In a flash, Cara was up, off the bed and running towards the door, Kahlan close on her heels. When, suddenly, Cara stopped dead in her tracks.

“Cara?”

Cara knelt down, her hands going to her boots where, tucked on the side of each boot, she pulled out two thin, silver daggers. She placed them in one hand, turned, extending them to Kahlan. “Thought you’d might want these.”

“My Confessor’s daggers,” Kahlan exhaled softly. Then her hand snaked out, clasped Cara by the back of Cara’s neck and pulled her wife in for a quick kiss. “I love you.”

Cara’s eyes went down to Kahlan’s lips and back up again, calculating the odds of her getting a little more sexy time with her wife before either the building sank completely or their attackers were on them. “I know.”

**

[Chapter Three](http://trancer21.livejournal.com/190235.html)   



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